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“Dad, with all due respect, you did just have open heart surgery. I don’t think you should be in too big of a rush to take off and get back to work. The cows will be happy with Carson and Hunter, and I guarantee Sawyer can run the office.” The truth stings a little, not finding a place for myself in the middle of any of it.
“And I guess you’re gonna have to be my entertainment to keep me from goin’ out there,” Dad adds, slapping my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Your three brothers drive me downright crazy, and they probably gave me the dang heart attack from the get-go.”
I laugh, relieved to see that his humor hasn’t left. “I think Hunter might be the one mostly responsible for that. I saw him riding his horse backwards again this morning—I really don’t get why he does that,” I say, picturing my youngest brother riding on his fresh colt, galloping across the foggy morning…
…facing the wrong way.
“You know, he does that all the time,” Dad points out, shrugging. “I think he might have a screw loose or something. I always thought if he found the right girl, it would slow him down—but it didn’t. Anyway, I’m real proud of you boys for finding the right women.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, my eyes dropping back to the guitar strings, as I pick a few scales.
“Callie is a really nice woman,” Dad continues. “I think that fits you pretty well.”
“Is that so?” I perk up, curious to know more about what my Dad sees in her. Because if I’m honest with myself, I’m curious what others think of her—think of us.
I just wish she would come talk to me. For the last couple of days, I’ve felt like I’m the plague, and she is trying to stay free of me.
Lord, please give her a reason to come talk to me.
“I just think you need someone who’s not squeaky clean. You’ll never relate to someone who’s never made some mistakes. I think Callie has made her fair share, too. You both are good for each other, I see that—and I’m dang proud of you for scooping her up.” Dad smiles at me, before nodding to the guitar. “Now, play me a song. I know good and well that you’ve made a good couple songs about that redheaded fiancée of yours. You used to write songs about that one dog we had—what was his name?”
“Henry,” I answer him, chuckling at the thought of the boxer mix that never seemed completely right in the head. “I still know the song I wrote about him getting stuck in that woven wire fence over and over again. I actually played it at a show out in Baltimore—I didn’t figure they’d know the difference since most of them were so far gone, if you know what I mean.”
“But did they notice?” Dad asks, his face suddenly curious.
“Nope.” I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s the thing with fans, they’re all there for me, but sometimes I don’t think they really hear what I’m singing about. Anytime I ever went through hard times, I wrote about it, yet not one person was ever like, ‘Hey Wade, are you okay?’ Nope, they all just want to hear more music.”
“It’s a tough industry.” Dad sighs, giving me a reassuring smile. “But I think you’ve done real good—and we’re always here if things aren’t okay. I know that we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but I sure would be happy if you moved down here to Texas. You could write some songs here, see your family. We miss you being around, Wade.”
“Yeah, I guess maybe I could think about it,” I say, knowing good and well I most likely never will. But if I say that, it will probably start an argument and Dad isn’t exactly in the best health. The last thing the man needs is to be arguing with me.
“Good, I think you should,” he says with a nod. “Coop could sure use his dad around, and we would be here to make sure you keep on the straight and narrow. I bet they’d love to have you back in the church band, you know.”
“Dad, I don’t think God would appreciate me playing in the church band,” I say with a laugh, already knowing how disappointed the Big Man upstairs probably is about all of my decisions, including the lie that involves a certain redhead. God, forgive me.
I blow out a sigh and go back to picking on the guitar, trying to make sense of everything in my head. As much as Callie started out as a lie to cover up the fact that I don’t have my life together, my feelings for her are far from a lie...
Which is absolutely terrifying because I’m not even sure where we stand at the moment. And I don’t even want to think about the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into with the media.
I gaze out the window at the endless pastures, dotted with cattle and horses. The sun is slowly setting, casting an orange-pink hue that makes everything look like it’s glowing in the fading light of day. There’s something comforting about looking out across the place where my innocent years were spent—before I turned into an idiot.
I watch dusk turn to night as I reflect on my childhood. But my thoughts are suddenly interrupted as Callie bursts into the room, visibly upset.
“Wade, I need your help.”
Chapter Eighteen
Callie
“I can’t find Bear,” I say, my heart already racing with panic as I say the words out loud. “I took him out to let him use the bathroom, and I think he heard something. I didn’t have my shoes on, so I had to come back in.” I feel myself growing breathless, tears threatening to slip from my eyes.
Wade’s eyes widen. “Did you see where he ran off to?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. I called for him like a million times, and he wouldn’t come. I got my shoes on and went out to look for him, but I can’t find him anywhere—and I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s okay,” he says, his voice coming out reassuring and gentle as he places a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll grab a flashlight.”
“You want some help?” Waylon speaks up, leaning forward in his chair with a grunt. “I can help if you need it.”
